Tacit Agreement
by fascimility
Summary: [Kakairu] Kakashi and Iruka don't know what they've got.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Naruto. If I did, there would be a lot more loving going on.

* * *

_Tacit Agreement_

* * *

Iruka felt hot breath against his neck. Kakashi drove into him in erratic, pounding thrusts, nothing of the measured, controlled rhythm that marked the onset of their relationship. Yet, it didn't hurt like it could have; in the firm press of Kakashi's palm on his shoulder there was a palpable tenderness that made his breath hitch even as he firmly denied the existence of something so nebulous. 

Not wanting to make unnecessary fuss, Iruka kept his face down, muffling his cries against the sheets as Kakashi reached forward to stoke him to trembling completion. The notion that this was merely temporal, merely catharsis was neither inconceivable nor improbable; in the circumstances Iruka would be the first to concede how it was in all likelihood the closest approximation to the truth.

"Hey," Kakashi said, breaking the rhythm uncharacteristically with a squeeze to Iruka's hipbone. Iruka stopped in confusion, still dazed and not quite there when Kakashi cupped his face and shifted them till they were mashed together, the hollow of Kakashi's stomach snug against the uneven cage of Iruka's ribs. "Huh?" Iruka asked, wonderingly as Kakashi didn't do anything more, just dropped little kisses onto his skin like he was marking out area with each press of lips.

Iruka thought he heard Kakashi mumble something but he didn't care: it didn't matter what Kakashi said, it didn't matter what happened. He was clinging on to this thing they had even as he saw it slip away, but he figured, with fatalism that rivalled that of Neji Hyuuga, that what was destined to happen would happen, and what wouldn't, just wouldn't. He couldn't take on fate and hope to win, so he might as well make the most of things while they lasted.

Kakashi went back to pressing into Iruka, moving with deliberate slowness. Iruka's struggled and his hands clenched at the sheets. Kakashi might have been methodical and a tad too analytical, but it would be silly to try and categorise this into a type of relationship simply because it had trespassed all conventional boundaries of being friends but still fell woefully short of being anything more than such. It irked, but Kakashi didn't dwell on things like that.

Feeling Iruka relax a little, Kakashi drew out, slowly, carefully, and winced when he thought he heard Iruka hiss, turning to nibble lightly on the base of the other man's neck in tacit apology.

In some other world, Kakashi thought, they might have been lovers, or even close friends.

----

Kakashi had been out like a light for the week that he had spent at Iruka's apartment, semi-waking only for food and to use the toilet. Iruka could tell that recovery would be a long, arduous journey even without Tsunade's stern instructions that Kakashi was to be out of commission for a good two months or so.

He watched Kakashi loll on the bed with one arm flung carelessly over his eyes, as if shielding them from the afternoon sun. Exhaustion was written into every fibre of Kakashi's frame; the tilt of his neck, the curl of his back betrayed unspeakable weariness even as his face remained composed in a still mask of blankness. If Iruka thought he'd just been through hell, watching Kakashi totter dangerously near the brink of death, he couldn't imagine what Kakashi himself might be going through, trapped as Kakashi was in illusions that no doubt hurt more than the flesh wounds in his side. Iruka didn't for a moment doubt that Kakashi was strong, because he undeniably was, but this wasn't a matter of strength. Kakashi might lose, and death would claim him, with no qualms and just as easily as it had claimed thousands before.

Iruka told himself: no regrets, no turning back, because if Kakashi were to leave, the only place left for Iruka to look was forward.

One night, at around three in the morning, Iruka was awoken by Kakashi nudging him none too gently in the ribs. "What?" he mumbled a little sullenly, still cranky about having been disturbed. When it hit him that Kakashi was up, and conscious enough to even begin poking him with some force, he sat bolt upright and flicked the table lamp on.

"Kakashi," he whispered softly, just in case he had been wrong about Kakashi being awake and cognizant.

The lump in the bed turned and regarded him with wide, alert eyes. "Yeah, I'm up," Kakashi said.

Iruka decided to warn Kakashi, to avoid the man becoming alarmed. "You're at my place," he said. "I brought you here after Tsunade said you could leave."

Kakashi rubbed his eyes, and inched closer to Iruka's lap. "Figured, my bed would never be this warm," he murmured. He wrapped long arms around Iruka's torso.

Iruka blinked a bit and frowned. "We've always arranged to meet each other, but I thought, since you were asleep, that you wouldn't really mind my place." When Kakashi looked at him questioningly, he added quickly, "not that we have to do, you know, anything."

It took a while for it to sink in, but when it did Kakashi was struck by the ease with which Iruka had just brought him home, like it was the most natural thing to do in the world. To him it most certainly wasn't: if Iruka was the one who'd been knocked up and laid out, Kakashi had his doubts that he would have done the same. It wasn't because he didn't give a damn about Iruka because that was patently untrue, but that it just wasn't done to cart the man home as if Kakashi had all the right to. So maybe he had appreciated Iruka taking the trouble of caring for him, but that was beside the point.

"Excuse me," Kakashi said, feeling slightly ridiculous at being the one to point this out, "but wouldn't it be more expedient to pick someone who's a little less prone to—" he paused and searched his vocabulary for a synonym for 'leaving', trusting in Iruka to understand his train of thought, whimsical as it was. He didn't fear death, and was reasonably sure Iruka didn't either: dying was ultimately inescapable, but that didn't make it any easier to accept in reality.

"—dying?" Iruka finished for him. "Kakashi, I chose _you_."

"As did I," Kakashi said, wondering at the plaintive impatience in Iruka's voice. It wasn't a lie, but he hadn't chosen, it just _was_; if he had to relive this again, he damn well wouldn't have picked otherwise.

The sharingan spun wildly in his moment of lucidity, as though it was vehemently opposed to this blatant travesty of logic—Hatake Kakashi did not love, did not cry. He sat quietly though Obito's silent admonishment; and vaguely wondered when Iruka had insidiously ingrained himself into his mind, much like how a part of Kakashi still held firmly onto his former teammate. This time Iruka was the one doing the tenacious holding on and more importantly, keeping Kakashi on the right side of living.

Obito whirled his approval, and Kakashi sighed in relief and salty, jumbled tears. He reached into gentle, strong Iruka, feeling as disoriented and unravelled as when they first met in embrace.

"Kakashi," Iruka murmured, along with a string of other incoherent, soothing words. Kakashi felt fingers rubbing soft circles onto his back. He didn't hear the syllables, but he would have to be deaf not to understand.

----

It hadn't been a special day, nor was the mission that he'd been assigned particularly exciting. It was a day to remembered in Kakashi's mind, however, because Iruka had been gloriously, spectacularly angry, pissed enough to utter words that Kakashi was sure he would never have heard otherwise.

The day had started off fairly uneventfully. The part Kakashi remembered was when he'd finished getting his mission from Iruka and was going to stroll nonchalantly out that Iruka slammed a fist onto the mission desk. Kakashi turned at the sound, only to have Iruka yell into his face, "You better hand in your mission report on time when you get back, you hear, Kakashi?"

He paused mentally at the lack of an honorific, deciding to put both hands up, palms forward in a placating gesture. "Maa, Iruka-sensei—" he began, only to be cut off abruptly as Iruka, a little more softly but no less threateningly, ground out, "Because it you don't, you've got hell to pay!"

Was it—? Was this Iruka's way of telling him to come back? Kakashi was certain promises like that were invariably broken, and being a man who learnt swiftly from mistakes (a shinobi's life held no place for second chances), carefully refrained from making any action that could be misconstrued as confirmation. He touched two straight fingers to his right temple in mock salute, and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Nothing was irrevocable, it was true, but there were certain things that if not absolute, were at least highly certain. Kakashi was willing to bet that Iruka was saying 'don't die' and 'please make it home', as if deep down, Iruka really cared. He thought he'd figured everything out that one night when he'd first snapped out of his long, long coma, shivering and faint, straight into Iruka's arms, but apparently not. There were still many things he didn't understand about Iruka. About _us_, he thought.

Kakashi hopped off a branch and sent off a short prayer. If Iruka wanted him back, then get back he would.

----

The mission was over. The sky stretched above him, boundless as infinity, and Kakashi knew that this was _it_, they were in that some other world he had been dreaming of and he was still intact and in one piece. He looked to his side where Iruka was standing, staring at him in three parts relief and one part anger. "Thought you'd never make it," Iruka chastised roughly, before reaching up and dragging his mask down for a kiss. Kakashi wondered just how he had missed the signs all this time, and was irrationally relieved at the realisation that he hadn't been the only one.

"Hey," Kakashi said, loathe to spoil the mood but desperate to quell the niggling doubt at the back of his mind. "When I left, you did say 'come back safe', right?"

Iruka took a moment to stare incredulously. "What the hell?" he said, the look on his face making it clear to Kakashi that Iruka thought precious little of his intellect.

"Thought so," Kakashi murmured, pulling Iruka happily back into the circle of his arms. Iruka shifted closer, and smiled as their fingers met at his hips.

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The End

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